Chapter Text
Sansa needed seclusion. She still wasn’t ready to discuss the reason behind leaving her previous job, and writing from home in the middle of nowhere ensured a safe and controlled atmosphere. Her nearest neighbor owned a large property, their houses separated by a quarter mile.
And best of all, the house sold for a ridiculously marked down price.
Robb Stark, her brother, carried one end of the green loveseat while Sansa carried the other. The rest of their siblings helped in the move as well, following each other to and from the truck with boxes.
“Jesus, Sans. What do have in here, rocks?”
She gave her baby brother an affectionate smile. “Books, Rickon.”
“Same thing,” he mumbled, and stepped over the threshold.
“Keep that knife I gave you by your bed,” Arya advised. “You don’t know what kinda creeps could come around out here.”
“I think it’s peaceful,” Bran argued, helping Robb with the bedframe now. “Should be good for bird watching.”
The five kept up the banter throughout the process until the truck was finally unloaded. Sansa treated her siblings to pizza by way of thanks, the five gathered around her coffee table for another hour.
“You should hang some bird feeders,” Bran said, continuing the earlier topic.
“I think she should get a dog,” Rickon countered, tossing his crust back into the pizza box. “It could get lonely out here.”
Sansa listened to them all patiently, savoring their cheer. The younger ones still had some of that—jovial youth. She and Robb had lost it when their parents died, and they’d been forced to take over that role.
Once bellies settled and the sun began to set, they stuck around for a bit of light unpacking. Sansa put books on her shelf, trying to figure out a system. She was using the second bedroom as a sort of study, a home for her books and writing desk. Robb put her bed together while Arya supervised kitchen duty, filling cabinets with plates and cups. Sansa owned only two bowls, preferring to eat soup or ice cream out of one of her giant mugs.
She was nearly finished with the third row when her copy of H.G. Wells’ The Invisible Man slid to the floor. She sighed before replacing it on the shelf.
Once her brothers and sister hugged her and left, Sansa found herself home alone for the first time ever. The little house felt peaceful, though she was still unaccustomed to such quiet. She played music from her phone while she hung clothes in the closet.
When her sore muscles got the best of her, she gave in to a hot shower. Her toiletries and a new loofa were all bundled together in a tote bag, but she had to stumble around nude and dripping wet in search of her towels. She thought they might’ve been packed in a suitcase with her clothes, but no dice. At last, a box in the corner tipped over and her fluffy towels spilled out.
Dressed, she made her bed with the new sheets and sunk down into the mattress, then played on her phone until it died. In the morning she’d have to find its charger.
***
A week later, Sansa had completely settled. She’d picked up log bags from the store in town and kept them in a crate near the fireplace. The mantle boasted a painting her friend Jeyne had gifted her, plus a small framed photo of the Stark clan. Rugs were scattered on the hard wood, and her books were finally organized.
She liked to drink her coffee on the back porch. No one would’ve called her an outdoorsy kind of girl, but something about these woods felt like sanctuary. The trees came right up to the steps, and their leaves had just begun their shift into a multitude of colors. When the birds chirped she found herself whistling back.
As the days wore on Sansa noticed a few strange occurrences. Every morning she found one of her books sitting open on the desk. After that she started waking with her blankets on the floor, as well. Concerned yet practical, she figured this was all due to a strange bout of sleepwalking. An internet search of sleep-reading brought few results, so she called her brother.
“Do you remember Aunt Lysa?” she asked.
“You spent more time with her,” Robb said. “But I can remember her visits.”
“She was a little…strange, wasn’t she? Did mom or dad ever mention her having memory problems? Or doing things in her sleep?”
A muffled crunch sounded down the line, telling her that Robb was eating something as they spoke. “Not that I can recall. I’d call Lysa more unhinged than strange. Why?”
She tugged at a loose thread on her throw pillow. “I was just curious,” she said, then changed the subject.
The next morning Sansa went to her study to see if she’d done it again, and found a pile of books on her floor.
It didn’t take long to reshelf the books. She checked if there had been an earthquake in the area, but none were reported. That day she had an appointment with a sleep therapist, anyway. She’d never done things in her sleep before, but maybe the quiet was messing with her.
The therapist suggested she record herself sleeping to observe any disturbances in the night. The idea gave her a creepy feeling, but how else was she to know?
When she got back from town, she changed into her athletic clothes and went for a run, thinking maybe her disturbed sleep arose from a lack of exertion during the day.
The woods behind her house still brought her comfort. She jogged a circular path, returning as the sun began to set. Near her back porch, the light caught something in her eye. The tree by the steps had a glint to it. She approached, curious, and found a delicate chain hanging from a low limb. She disentangled it and withdrew a necklace, the bauble a dirty coin or something.
Sansa tucked her new trinket into the pocket of her hoodie and headed inside.
She hydrated, then went to the bathroom to shower. When she tossed her clothes to the floor, the necklace chimed against the tile. She picked it up and scrubbed it at the sink.
The dirt rinsed away easily to reveal a silver coin sporting the outline of a wolf’s head. It was pretty. It made her think of her father—he’d always had an affinity for wolves. She set it beside the sink and stepped into the spray.
After the shower, she wrapped herself in a towel and reached for the necklace. The chain, surprisingly, had no rust. She unclasped it and put it on, the wolf coin falling between her collar bones.
In the mirror two gray eyes appeared.
She screamed.
“Who the hell…?!” she cried, rounding on the stranger and clutching her towel closer. “What are you doing?!”
The stranger’s gray eyes widened, his mouth dropping in shock.
“You can see me?”